


she.

by helenblqckthorn



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Gen, Trans Character, poetic-esque writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 10:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12555432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenblqckthorn/pseuds/helenblqckthorn
Summary: she is a small infant, staring up into her parents faces, blurry and soft around the edges, giggling and grasping her parents fingers, unaware of any problems in the world.





	she.

she is a small infant, staring up into her parents faces, blurry and soft around the edges, giggling and grasping her parents fingers, unaware of any problems in the world.

 

she is a child, staring at her mother’s beautiful dresses, running her fingers along the silk and the satin, wondering why she can’t wear them. she is watching her mother pin her hair up, the dark thick locks, and feeling her own short-cut hair, and wondering why she can’t have her hair long.

 

she is a barely a teenager, looking wistfully at her sister, who is smacking her lips as she places lipstick upon herself. she is looking at the boys in the centre of town, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as she stares at the graceful curve of their throats, the angles of their noses and the shape of their legs.

 

she is wondering why she can’t be a _she_.

 

she is a teenager now, and she has told her parents how she feels. they look at her, and she can feel the weight of their gazes. although they say everything is alright, she can hear their whispers late at night, curled up in bed, and wonders if there is something wrong with her.

 

she is with her sister, and she is laughing and she is wearing a dress, and she is herself and she feels wonderful. her joy quietens when she has to take the dress off in order to leave her house.

 

she curls into a ball, sobbing, once she realises that she can never be herself outside of her home.

 

she is with her sister, and she is in a place full of bright colours and foreign accents. she is with her sister, and she is wearing makeup, and she is wearing a dress, and she is _on top of the world,_ because she is out in the open, and she is who she really is, and she is diana.

 

she is whirling her blade around in a fight, slicing and stabbing demons all around her. she whispers her sister’s name as the darkness closes in around her.

 

she has jolted awake, and there is a blue woman there, a warlock—her name is catarina—and she softly tells her that her sister has died, and diana _screams_ , and she has never felt this _pain_ before, and it feels like her heart has _ripped_ open, and she can’t _breathe_ , and she can taste the salt dripping down her face in tears.

 

she is in catarina’s home, and she has told her how she feels, how she is a she, but doesn’t look it to others. catarina tells her that is called being transgender—and she is sobbing again, because she has been _deprived_ of a word to describe herself for so long.

 

she is in the hospital, still in the foreign place, and catarina is helping her, and she is hiding her blood results from the other doctors, and she doesn’t know how to thank catarina, and she looks into the mirror and _bursts_ into tears again.

 

she is in the foreign place, and she is telling her parents with a lump in her throats that she cannot come back home. she is in tears again, because she has found out her parents are dead. she does not believe her heart can _break_ any more.

 

she is travelling back to the place of her youth, the place where she had to conceal herself for so long, and she is free. she is _open_ , she is _diana_.

 

she is giving a sword to a girl with hair like fire, and a boy with actual fire running through his veins. she is vouching for the family that have lost so much, she is fighting for that family. she has survived the war.

 

she is taking the place of the blackthorns tutor, and she loves all of them. she sees the bags under julian’s eyes, and sees the way he interacts with arthur, and realised she needs to do something.

 

she is opening the book of questions, the questions they ask you with a sword that pulls the truth out of you, and scanning them, seeing if she can become the head of the institute. her gaze drops to the question, the dreaded question, and she _throws_ the book at the wall, yelling in frustration.

 

she has watched the family grow up, seen their hopes and dreams, their nightmares and grief. she has taught them everything they need to know. she is a part of their mix-matched family.

 

she is investigating the person they call a friend, and her heart cracks even more when she finds him to be a traitor. she wants to take the blame off the blackthorns, she doesn’t even care, but the boy with the truth and the lies balanced in his palms manages to pull it off. she worries for him.

 

she is holding a golden acorn, trying not to think of the beautiful man with the soft heart behind his intimidating mannor. she is calling catarina for another favour, she is in london. she accepts the offer of the beautiful faerie.

 

she is in alicante, and her red silk garments make her feel elegant and sophisticated. she is with the beautiful man, flying over the city of glass. she is eating and laughing and drinking, and she feels like gwyn can see right through her.

 

somehow, she doesn’t mind. she wants him to know.

 

se is talking, talking, talking with the consul and the inquisitor, and she negotiating, and it frustrates her, how much she needs to conceal in order to get the result needed.

 

she is exhausted, helping the blackthorns, helping the faerie with the odd blue hair, helping emma, who’s hair curls around her face like gold ribbon, helping the boy who is a herondale but is not sure if he wants to be one, helping the girl with the dark hair and the darker eyes, with the kind soul, who seems to have become a family member, helping the shadowhunter and the warlock that bring hope to the world, helping their children.

 

she is bandaging the beautiful faerie’s arm, feeling the soft skin under the hard armour, and he is looking up at her, asking the questions she usually dreads.

 

she doesn’t, this time.

 

she is _pouring_ her heart out to the faerie, she is offering her life, her story, her every emotion, her truth, and wondering if he will turn away.

 

he kneels before her, he calls her the bravest woman he has ever met, and she is curling into him, she is shaking with emotions all mixed together. she feels a flicker of hope in her chest.

 

she is herself.

 

she is _diana_.

**Author's Note:**

> ngl i cried while writing this
> 
> join me on my [tumblr](http://catarinalosss.tumblr.com/) for the last hours of diana day or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/helenblqckthrn)!


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